Every year, the Academy Awards promises glam, glitz, upsets, and vindications, and surely, this Sunday will prove no exception. That said, where stars either shine brighter or begin their inevitable fade is with their acceptance speeches. Apart from Sean Baker’s acceptance speech for Best Director of Anora, which was a rousing call-to-arms for the theatrical experience, by and large, Oscar speeches suck.

There are many reasons why they suck (slapping the host doesn’t help) but here are mine:

1.

“Perceived ingratitude by omission” is the technical term I’ve coined to describe what happens when someone who should be thanked during an acceptance speech isn’t. 

The checklist of prerequisites proceeds in this order:

The members of the Academy, the other nominees, one’s professional representatives (agent, manager, lawyer, yogi, etc.), one’s collaborators and one’s life partner.

It’s incredible how many times this last person on the list is forgotten as winners are scrolling through contacts in their phone. Deceased pets and baristas are often thanked instead of significant others. Why? Because emotional proximity puts these people in a blindspot when one’s vision is tunneled by teleprompters.

The most famous omission is surely Hilary Swank’s failure to thank then-husband Chad Lowe when accepting the Best Actress Oscar for Boys Don’t Cry in 2000. As the cameras cut between shots of the couple—Swank onstage and Lowe in the audience—it became increasingly clear to everyone but Swank that Lowe would not be acknowledged before the music played. Painful.

2.

Say it, don’t pray it: Don’t thank deities. Be they gods or goddesses, Eastern or Western, ancient or science fiction, thanking one’s deity upon receiving an eight-and-a-half pound statuette award from one’s showbiz peers is like phoning a dying parent after a bartender puts an extra olive in your martini. God has an executive producer credit on all creation, you think they give a shit you gotta trophy for playing ping pong, Timmy?

3.

A good Oscar rule of thumb (that pertains to pretty much everything) is not to publicly profess incestuous affection for your sibling (oh, Angelina).

4.

Size matters: The longer the speech, the lesser the talent. Remember, brevity is the soul of wit lest your acceptance speech become a slow motion train wreck of narcissistic self-adulation that turned The Brutalist into The Onanist (like, seriously, shut the fuck up, Adrian). That said, don’t be too brief as to seem ungrateful—like Joe Pesci’s Best Supporting Actor speech for Goodfellas. All he said was “It’s my privilege. Thank you.” Then he went backstage and stabbed somebody with a pen.